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Friday, January 30, 2015

Disavowed is finally out at all retailers! I think this 4th book of the Hostage Rescue Team Series is the best yet, and I hope you're as excited about DeLuca and the mysterious B as I am :).

B is a total badass (I loved writing about her!) and DeLuca is about to be blindsided. Heh. Love it when that happens to my alpha heroes.

The government trained her to kill…

Briar Jones has lived most of her life in the shadows, carrying out secret ops to eliminate some of the United States’ most dangerous enemies. She’s devoted her life to serving her country so when a faceless enemy targets her and kills someone close to her, she’ll stop at nothing to bring them down. With her life in danger and critical intel leaked during an off-the-books op, she has no choice but to go on the run with a disturbingly sexy man she barely knows. While in hiding they learn that the agency responsible for turning her into a lethal weapon is now out to destroy her. What they don’t know is why, or who has set her up. As they unravel the mystery Briar must trust this near stranger in order to stay alive and expose whoever is behind the plot. She never expected to lose her heart in the process.

Now it’s coming after her…

Matt DeLuca has survived devastating loss and risen to become commander of the FBI’s elite Hostage Rescue Team. When a top-secret mission goes awry and he’s tasked with protecting Briar, the last thing he anticipates is falling in love with the beautiful and deadly assassin. But now intelligence officers are dying and Briar’s name is at the top of the hit list. With her life at stake they race to end the threat and clear her name, battling the shadowy killers sent to silence her forever.

The startled recognition in his voice made Briar lift her head to peer up at him. He pushed back his goggles and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened and squinted up at him, then stared in shock. Supervisory Special Agent Matteo DeLuca, commander of the HRT.

Shit. Briar internally groaned as humiliation and anger churned in her gut, mixing with the pain, burning away the awful shakiness. She resisted the urge to look away.

He scowled down at her. “What the hell are you— You took out Ramadi?”

Clenching her jaw, Briar lowered her gaze and rested her cheek against the snow, uncaring of the freezing cold against her skin. If word of her capture got out, her career— hell, life as she knew it—would be over.

The hand on her shoulder tightened. “Who shot you?” he demanded, clearly out of patience with her silent routine.

She didn’t know, so she didn’t answer. She was acutely aware of the seven other men standing around watching and listening while she tried to come up with a way out of this mess. Being caught burned a hell of a lot worse than the bullet wound, and it hurt plenty.

DeLuca hunkered down more, shielding her from the worst of the wind with his body. “I don’t know who sent you but we’re on the same side and I want to help you. So talk to me.”

There was nothing to say. She didn’t answer to him or anyone else waiting down this mountain. Ramadi was dead, and that was all he needed to know until she cleared things with Janaia.

DeLuca pushed out a frustrated sigh and waved one of his men forward. “Schroder, come take a look at her. The rest of you maintain the perimeter. Other shooter’s likely still in the area.” He stood and pulled out what she assumed was a satellite phone. The screen gave off a faint illumination in the darkness.

Good luck getting a call out in these conditions, she thought with a mental snort.

Another man, she assumed Schroder, the team’s medic, came over and squatted beside her. “Your name’s B?”

She flashed him a cold look that only made him grin, his teeth a startling white against the camouflage paint on his skin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He started pulling things out of his ruck and she heard the snap of latex gloves going on.

Briar closed her eyes against the wind for a moment and braced herself for more pain. She could hear DeLuca moving around close by as the medic began searching her for injuries. She involuntarily hissed through her teeth when Schroder’s hand swept over the wound.

“Anywhere else besides this?” he asked, continuing his assessment.

Gritting her teeth, she gave a terse shake of her head. She’d been lucky. The wound hurt like a bitch but it wasn’t life-threatening or anything. Just enough to slow her down, piss her off and make her miserable. It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to her skin as Schroder cut through her clothing and exposed the wound.

The low beam of a pen light lit up the darkness as he took a closer look. “That’s a pretty good gash.” He turned to DeLuca, who’d put his phone away. Likely because he couldn’t get reception in this storm, let alone with all the trees around to block the signal. “She’ll need stitches.”

“Put a dressing on it for now. You can do the honors when we get her down to the command center.”

And there it was. They were taking her in.

“Let me go,” she said, surprised at how rough her voice was.

DeLuca looked down at her sharply and shook his head. “Not a chance.”

*end excerpt*

At the moment I'm working on the 5th and final Bagram Special Ops book, which will feature Honor and Liam. After that, I plan to start Schroder's story for book #5 of the HRT series.

Monday, January 26, 2015

With permission, I am sharing a post I recently stumbled upon at A Mighty Girl. I know military romance readers, who are always looking for strong female heroines, will enjoy hearing about these inspiring ladies and their place in history. There are also some great links to other sites where you can do more research.

"The Nazis called them 'Night Witches' because the whooshing noise their plywood and canvas airplanes made reminded the Germans of the sound of a witch’s broomstick. The Russian women who piloted those planes, onetime crop dusters, took it as a compliment. In 30,000 missions over four years, they dumped 23,000 tons of bombs on the German invaders, ultimately helping to chase them back to Berlin. Any German pilot who downed a “witch” was awarded an Iron Cross.

These young heroines, all volunteers and most in their teens and early 20s, became legends of World War II but are now largely forgotten. Flying only in the dark, they had no parachutes, guns, radios or radar, only maps and compasses. If hit by tracer bullets, their planes would burn like sheets of paper."

So begins a NY Times tribute to one of the most famous "Night Witches," Nadezhda Popova, who flew 852 missions during the war, including 18 in a single night. She passed away in 2013 at the age of 91. To read about Popova's incredible life story and learn more about these largely forgotten heroines of WWII, visit http://nyti.ms/JbnOMC

While there aren't any books available for young readers about these courageous women, there are several books for older readers about the role of Russian women combat pilots during WWII including "Flying for Her Country: The American and Soviet Women Military Pilots of World War II" (http://amzn.to/1mTMad9), "Night Witches: The Amazing Story Of Russia's Women Pilots in World War II" (http://amzn.to/15qK7JD), "Wings, Women, and War: Soviet Airwomen in World War II Combat" (http://amzn.to/1fyPOs8), "A Dance with Death: Soviet Airwomen in World War II" (http://amzn.to/1jJb79N), "Red Sky, Black Death: A Soviet Woman Pilot's Memoir of the Eastern Front" (http://amzn.to/NhxvM4).

I stumbled upon another interesting news item just this week, and I absolutely love it. It reminds me of the Ben Affleck movie ARGO, about a 'film crew' being used to rescue hostages. If you haven't seen it, go find it and watch it now.

This other story, THE CODE, is about an advertising executive being employed by the Columbian government to get a secret message to hostages being held, some for 14 years, in the jungle. Read the full story HERE. It's pretty amazing.

Will I use this in a story? Maybe. Maybe not. But next time you're reading, you might wonder, is any of this true? It could be!

Friday, January 9, 2015

I thought I'd tell you a little about the amazing woman who inspired Casey, the heroine in Call of Duty. While writing Call of Duty, I kept her in mind the entire time. She was going through some pretty crappy times and I hoped to cheer her up. She heroine was even named after her, but she chose the name Casey when the book was contracted.

Linda and I met in the 3rd grade. Our fathers were stationed at Barkesdale Air Force Base. It's a pretty big base, but we ended up living at opposite ends of the same street. I like to remember that the friendship was immediate and strong. Honestly, I don't remember that part mainly because I don't really have many memories of a time before I met Linda at BAFB.

Linda and I were mostly inseparable for over 3 years. Running up and down the street was normal. We played in groups, we played together. I remember games of "red rover" and "red light, green light" and "Mother may I" in her front year. She had a tree that was great for base. I remember playing at gymnastics in the back yard. And of course, playing at the playground.

Linda was the one who told me about sex. She has an older sister, so we got bare bones details! I still remember sitting on the swings talking about how that couldn't be possible!

And I remember my 6th grade heart breaking when we got transferred to Seymour Johnson AFB in North Carolina. It didn't matter that she'd soon be moving to Carswell AFB in Texas.

This song still makes me think of her and cry.

Those were the days of counting the minutes in long distance phone calls. We made good use of our time!

Skip ahead to high school, when she flew up for my high school graduation. We hadn't seen each other in 6 years, not that anyone could tell.

After the children starting coming (my 1 and her 4), we visited when ever possible

Skip ahead to now. Linda raised 4 wonderful children mostly by herself until she remarried in 2011. Raised 4 amazing kids! She is my hero. I don't know if I've ever told her that. No matter what got thrown at her, she moved forward with an infectiously positive attitude.

These are her 4 kiddos, all adults.

The boys are Joe and Dalton. The girls are Allison and Emily.

And here is her retired Air Force father, the Colonel, with his army officer grandchildren, the Ranger and the pilot.

Through it all, for over 40 years, she's been there for me. No matter how long we go between phone calls.